Nuriel Veritas was stalking through the ancient halls, admiring many of the tapestries, busts, statues, and the many other adornments that sang the long, proud song of the chapter's history. He always paid particularly close attention to those depicting the enemy being cleansed in holy fire.
A smile came to traditionally handsome, and surprisingly unscared face as he turned down another corridor,making his way towards the hallowed library. It had been several days since he had the time to perform his duties therein, having been busy with a multitude of other tediums in the meantime.
Nearing the heavily ornate doors that lead into the sacred series of rooms and halls, he extended his left hand, still feeling the difference in the three augmetic fingers that replaced some chopped off in a previous war, when he heard the sound of hurried footsteps closing in behind him.
Reflexively, the Librarian turned, hand drifting to a combat knife nearly as long as a normal man's arm, when he saw that it was only one of the chapter serfs hastily moving towards him.
The serf began to pant and looked up to the towering for of Nuriel and bowed respectfully.
"A...apologies my lord Nuriel, I have been sent to inform you there is a meeting of the council to be held soon.", the serf gasped between lungfuls of air.
Nuriel nodded in thanks and said nothing to the serf as he walked past him and made haste to the council chambers. The journey wouldn't take long, but Nuriel had no idea if the meeting had begun yet or not, and being praised and distrusted in equal measure throughout the chapter, he would not be known for being late as well, although his presence wasn't wholly necessary, he was still a part of the council due to his senior rank.
He arrived without incident, and made his way to his place near the captain of the Third, nodding respectfully in greeting at his battle brothers before quietly taking his seat and listening to the proceedings with a detached stoicism. He fidgeted slightly, his fingers drumming and moving in a strange rhythm as he listened to their Chapter Master introduce the inquisitors.
He decided almost instantly that he disliked the first to speak. The man was a deceiver, and was too comfortable in the lofty position he held over those gathered within the council chamber.
It wasn't until the mention of Orks that Nuriel took an interest, his eerie orange eyes all but glowing in bloodthirsty anticipation, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair at the thought of locking blades with the greenskins once more. He detested the Ork as much as any within the room, but they were also powerful warriors that pushed an Astartes to their limits at times, and the best way to exterminate an infestation was the bless them with the righteous flame of the Emperor's wrath.
His disappointment could have been felt as the inquisitor mentioned simple Exterminatus being sanctioned on the planet.
While his hearts pumped slightly faster at the thought of witnessing something as grand and beautiful as the death of a planet, why would such an obviously valuable planet be sterilized over a simple Ork invasion?
This caused warnings to echo through Nuriel's mind as he thought on it more. He had been a part of the Second War for Armageddon, and knew that a third had happened, but the planet had not been sterilized in spite of this.
As he mulled over his misgivings, the rest of the meeting went by in a blur, and before he knew it, they were adjourned.
As the gathered members filed out a clearing throat caught Nuriel's attention, and he turned and saw Inquisitor Kestus approaching him with that same sneer stamped upon his face, the finery he was dressed in only adding to his pompous arrogance.
The two appeared as polar opposite standing next to one another. Kestus much shorter than the Astartes facing him, dressed in fine clothes while Nuriels was merely in a tunic and towered more than head and shoulders over the man.
Kestus attempted a smile that only became more snide as he said, "A moment of your time Lord Nuriel."
Roughly three quarters of an hour, and a disturbing conversation with the inquisitor later, Nuriel strode into the hangar, where the rest of the assembled Astartes were boarding the shuttle bound for the Intention of Dawn. He was in full wargear, his titanic blade and holy bolter strapped to his back, a variety of grenades clung to his armor. The armor itself was terrifying to behold, the blue color, as was standard for librarians, was so dark it was nearly black, scrolls and scriptures of fury and damnation adorned the ancient ceramite and adamantium. It rumbled and growled, as if barely able to contain its hatred and that of its wearer. On either should was something similar to a sconce that periodically spewed forth flame, casting the armor's engravings of death and war into sharp relief. The grill on his helmet were two rows on finely pointed fangs that had obviously been forged with utmost care and matched the ridged dome perfectly along with the luminescent reddish-orange eye lenses.
Those burning eyes turned to Captain Garrius as he strode towards him. "Brother-Captain...", he said with a smart salute and a bow of respect towards Belarion, "Brother Chaplain, forgive my interruption... I realize that I was meant to remain here with the rest of the Third in your absence."
The last was true, being one of the highest ranked members of the Third Company, normally, unless selected for such a mission, he would remain and continue his normal duties.
"However...", he continued, pulling a scroll marked with the I of the Inquisition from he belt and offering it to his captain, "I have had an... Unsettling conversation with the inquisitor Kestus. He has used his position to coerce the Librarium to send one of us with you, he chose me personally."
It was clear to anyone that suddenly, something strange was in the works, but Nuriel offered nothing else as he handed the scroll to Captain Garrius and awaited his response.